


As You Wish

by handwritten (onefromanotherworld)



Category: Princess Bride (1987), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Movie Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onefromanotherworld/pseuds/handwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes, but how can he tell him?<br/>Three words are all it takes, three words he learned from a story from his childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Wish

**Author's Note:**

> I'm afraid I haven't read the book yet so the references are from the movie.

Sometimes epiphanies take a long journey and long hours of thought to come to life. Sometimes, however, they rise in the middle of the most ordinary of activities such as showering, exercising, brushing your teeth or, in the case of John Watson, taking a trip to a Tesco’s.

If someone asked him to explain the train of thought that had taken him there, well… he might just refer them to Sherlock. He was certain the detective would have been better suited for the task. It could’ve been walking past Angelo’s, the smell of fish & chips lingering in the street, the discount on violin records he saw from the corner of his eye, or the pot of honey currently on his hand. He was not sure what exactly had triggered the thought but one thing was certain: he was in love with Sherlock Holmes.

He felt such a surge of happiness that he almost –almost- leaped with joy. He just smiled, instead. What he did do, though, was to hurry to finish the shopping and go back to the flat. He felt as if it was a matter of life or death to tell Sherlock right away. He could almost see him light up when John told him; he would smile and say ‘took you long enough’. John chuckled at the thought and quickened his step a bit more.

Sadly, things didn’t go not even remotely as he had hoped. He arrived to 221B just to have Sherlock push him back out, they had a case, and Lestrade was already expecting them. He just had time to leave the bags at the foot of the stairs before hurrying back outside. Clearly, it wasn’t the best of times to say ‘I love you’. With a bit of luck, he would be able to say it that night.

But, of course, luck wasn’t in the mood to grant him any favours. What was the point of having an epiphany if you couldn’t share it with the world? The case –that had begun with the theft of a vase by its own artist and had blown out of proportion- took them more than a week, and by then John had become used to finding reasons not to tell Sherlock about his feelings. The case had reminded him that the Work came first, that Sherlock was a married man. It was clear he would never find the right moment to say it, or of seeing his intentions reciprocated; nonetheless, he was adamant on getting the message out at least once, even if it meant to go back to the way things were before saying it. The question was how to do it. Once again, the answer came to him at the aisles of a Tesco’s.

He was looking around, seeing if he didn’t need anything else when a kid stopped in front of him, a toy sword in hand and said: ‘My name is Iñigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die’. John barely had the time to react and get out of the way before the kid launched at him. Seeing that he had missed, he turned around, lifted the sword once more and repeated his dialogue. John was about to raise his right hand to show him he didn’t have six fingers when he heard a woman saying ‘Taylor! Stop that this instance, and come here!’ Breaking character, the kid said: ‘Coming mum!’ and went away.

John stood there for a moment trying not to burst out laughing. The Princess Bride! He couldn’t believe children still knew about that story, or played pretend to be any of the characters! He remembered when he was little and played with Harry. He was always Westley, while Harry, for some reason, always chose to be Humperdink. And then he knew how to tell the truth to Sherlock without making too much of a fuss. Either way, worst-case scenario, he would finally have a reason to stop tip-toeing around.

So, back he went to the flat to find his best friend browsing a newspaper, already on the look-out for a new case. He had not set a foot in the kitchen when he heard a rumpling of paper, and an exasperated Sherlock saying ‘Dull, dull, dull! There’s nothing here! John, make me a cup of tea’. John couldn’t help but grin. _Perfect_ , he thought. ‘As you wish’, he said. He managed to time his movements perfectly to see from the corner of his eye Sherlock doing a double take. This was going to be fun, to say the least.

Days went by in this fashion. If anything, John was glad to see that Sherlock was intrigued by his, John’s, new answer to his every request. No matter how ridiculous the petition was, John always smiled and answered ‘as you wish’. After a while, however, John started to worry that things weren’t going to be as in the story –not that he was hoping—and that he had made a big mistake by giving Sherlock too much power, but he kept repeating to himself that every time he uttered the words, he was expressing his love. So he kept answering to every ‘hand me my phone’, ‘send this text’, ‘pay the cab’, ‘bring me something dissectible’, ‘hold this ear’. The one good thing he did notice was the fact that Sherlock seemed to have taken to order him around when they were alone, which was good.

Sherlock had been so surprised and intrigued by the first time John had said those three words that he was torn for a second between worrying and uncovering the extent of this change. He chose the latter, of course. So for the next few days he started testing just how far John was willing to go with his new phrase of choice. At first he thought he was being mocked, but this was John, his John didn’t do things to hurt him. There was also something about the way he said it, the words reminded him of something he couldn’t quite pin-point. He needed more data.

The next time they were at a crime scene he said in front of Lestrade’s team: ‘John, call Molly, tell her to cancel her date for tonight, I’m going to need access to the lab’. He was going to leave it like that, as always, but somehow it felt wrong talking to John that way in front of all those strangers knowing what his answer was going to be, so he quickly added ‘please’. It was difficult to say if the Yarder’s were more amazed by Sherlock’s sudden manners of by John’s more-than-happy answer.

As soon as John finished his call Lestrade went to him and asked smiling ‘Did that just happen?’

‘I believe it did’, said John beaming. It was the first time Sherlock had said ‘please’ since the whole thing had started. He was afraid they would never reach this point.

‘Look at you, all giddy. Looks like Westley was right all along, huh?’

‘It seems that way’, John laughed. ‘So I take it you’re a fan too?’

‘’Course I am! Who can say no to fencing, fighting, chases, escapes and miracles?’, he said mimicking the first two actions. ‘Plus, my kids love watching the movie’, he chuckled. ‘Anyway, congratulations, John, seems you are almost there’, he patted him on the back and turned to look at Sherlock, who was approaching.

While Sherlock had not been able to hear their conversation, he could tell that Lestrade was in on the mystery, and that it had to do with fencing, if he could trust in his bad mimics. He finally had something more to go on, after he finished with the case at hand.

Fortune smiled more to Sherlock, or maybe it was merely time for him to know. The very next afternoon, after they had caught the jealous ex-boyfriend at the train station, Sherlock went inside his mind palace, searching for three words and a man with a sword. The memory was fuzzy, the intonation of the words not quite correct, but he managed to find it quite quickly. He smiled, he would have never imagined that something of that nature would come to affect his adult life too. He looked around the flat for John. His jacket was gone, as were his keys, the refrigerator was empty, and it was only noon. Perfect, he had just enough time for a light read and to set his scene.

Later that afternoon, he heard the door downstairs close and John going up the stairs, and went to sit down at the kitchen table, pipette at hand. He looked up as John set down the shopping bags on the counter and said ‘John…’

‘Mhh?’, he said without looking at Sherlock.

The detective waited until he turned around, and when their eyes met, he said ‘uh… hand me that pitcher?’, nodding at the pitcher right next to his free hand. John froze for a moment, not missing the parallel, smiled, took the pitcher and handed it to Sherlock saying ‘as you wish’. Sherlock took it, and they both started giggling.

‘So, should I start calling you Westley, now?, he said between giggles.

It took John a while before he could compose himself enough to ask ‘How did you know? You don’t know about these things.’

‘Please, John’, Sherlock said placing the pitcher back down and turning to see him again, ‘the Dread Pirate Roberts was my role model when I was growing up’.

 _Initially he wanted to be a pirate_ , John remembered Mycroft’s words. ‘Well, that explains a lot, actually’, he said chuckling. ‘Took you long enough, then’, he echoed his fantasy of weeks before.

‘I may have had forgotten about Buttercup and their relationship’, he admitted. ‘What was the need to go through the whole charade, though? Why didn’t you just tell me?’

‘Cos you are married to your Work, remember? I wasn’t sure what I felt would be welcomed.’

‘So you decided to go the long way around it, I see. I suppose it was appropriate, after all, this is true love, it’s not like it happens any day’.

Another set of giggles. They were ridiculous, John thought but felt ecstatic at Sherlock’s view of the whole situation. ‘So…’, he began.

‘So, now that it’s in the open, would you mind not answering every one of my requests that way? You are spoiling me’, Sherlock smiled, getting closer to John.

‘As you wish’, he couldn’t help saying it one last time.

‘Shut up’, the detective said leaning in for a kiss. ‘I love you too’.


End file.
